


Happy Anniversary

by syredronning



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-08
Updated: 2010-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/syredronning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a year Mirror!Kirk allows Mirror!McCoy to fuck him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [scorching hot prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/issenterprise/2144.html?thread=52064#t52064) in the ISS Kink Meme:   
> _Once a year Mirror!Kirk allows Mirror!McCoy to fuck him. Well allows is too generous a term - McCoy is usually seated, blindfolded; wrist, forearms, and elbows tightly tied behind his back; ankles and thighs held apart by spreader-bars; with McCoy kept hard by a tight cockring. Then Kirk rides him hard. _ (Which I still think is hotter than my story!)
> 
> Story comes with the usual warnings - MU, nasty, kinky, abusive. Because non-con is fun in fantasies. Not beta'ed.

Fifty-one weeks of the year, McCoy bends over.

Once a week, he does so for his shot in sickbay, the one the captain ordered for him. It keeps him chemically castrated, and with that both his temper and his dick down. There's no reason why it's got to be a weekly shot instead of some hormone implant, besides Kirk wanting him to remember _every fucking week_ that he still has some balls, not that it helps him a lot.

Every other day of the fifty-one weeks, he bends over for Kirk which is obviously his destiny in this mad world, because being the CMO also means being the fucktoy of His Royal Highness the Captain, ruler of the tin can he'd been sent to. He's got to take Kirk's dick up his ass or in his mouth, reminded with every rutting push who's _the man_ here, and the few times Kirk allows him an orgasm of his own, it's subdued and strangely unreal.

In the fifty-second week, though, everything is different. There's no shot, and with every day, McCoy feels more alive and powerful. It's like working his muscles, and damn he knows _which muscles_ he wants to use again. But he knows better than to jerk off because Kirk keeps a damn eye on him, and the agony booth hurts like hell.

Then there's anticipation growing, the hope that maybe this time, it would be different – maybe this time around Kirk would allow him a fuck face-to-face as his equal one damn night in the year.

"Are you man enough for this?" McCoy pushes the captain on day five.

It's the wrong thing to say and shows his growing temper, but he can't help himself. He's pretty sure anyway that no matter what he says, he'll end up with shots for another year. Kirk has gotten used to his emasculated, obedient pet.

*

"I could always cut it off, you know," Kirk says with a sadistic grin as he fondles McCoy's balls on day six. Not that McCoy can see a thing with the blindfold on, but he knows how the captain's face looks in such moments. He's seen enough of it for the last four years.

"Would mean the irrevocable end of the fun, wouldn't it?" McCoy snarls, pulling at his ties with verve. The ropes with which he's tied to the chair cut into his flesh – chest, ankles and wrists. The only thing that can outstretch is his dick, upright and full, trapped by a cock ring. He moans against his will as Kirk starts slicking it up.

"Fuck you."

"Oh yeah, I'm going to fuck myself on your dick, long and hard. It's a gift, Bones. I don't do that with anyone else." Kirk fondles his member. It's so hard that it hurts. "And since you seem to be unable to shut up tonight, I'll make it easies for you," he adds and forces a ring gag between McCoy's teeth. It leaves McCoy's mouth open and vulnerable. Fingers push inside, tapping his quickly drying tongue, then moving back to his lips. "Such full lips… made for sucking," Kirk says. "Well, tomorrow again."

Skin moves against skin as Kirk positions himself, bending Bones back in the flexible chair. "Your dick is so perfect, Bones," he whispers as he lowers himself onto the pulsing erection. Bones gasps from the contact, the way his dick is wrapped by Kirk's tight ass. "I'm going to ride you until you're raw, until you moan and whimper."

And damn if Kirk doesn't deliver, rides up and down on his dick until the skin is abraded, the lube mostly gone. Kirk's dick keeps slapping against his groin, Kirk's breathing tingles in his ears and McCoy is too far gone to care. All he wants is to get off, but then Kirk ejaculates all over his groin and takes a break, leaving him shivering in his uncomfortable ties.

The circle continues for another two times before Kirk removes the cock ring to sit onto McCoy's dick once more. He rides him brutally, one hand on McCoy's shoulder, the other shoved into his spread mouth. McCoy whimpers as he can feel the tension rising, and at last his orgasm is wrestled from his body, forced onto him in an incredible mixture of pain and pleasure. Kirk's come hits his chest, dribbling down his stomach. When Kirk moves up, McCoy gasps in pain; it only earns him a quiet laugh.

"Happy Anniversary." Kirk presses a mocking kiss onto his lower lip.

McCoy still breathes hard when he hears the door and then Chapel's voice greeting the captain. She's here for his shot, and he feels his face growing hot as he imagines what she sees, her boss tied and helpless, his groin and chest splattered with drying semen, his dick deflated and raw.

But there's no schadenfreude in her voice as she whispers "I'm sorry" before pressing the hypo against his neck, and her pity stings worse than Kirk's sneer in the background. Then she leaves again.

In his body, McCoy can feel the effects immediately; the energy he needs to keep up his resistance and anger goes down the drain, eaten by the drug cocktail. He's tired and aching and that's how Kirk wants him to be. At last, he's untied, blinking against the light of the cabin.

"Bend over," Kirk orders and pushes him against the table. "I want to celebrate our next year." Fingers that just had been in his mouth now intrude his ass, dry and painful.

Sometimes McCoy wishes they'd skip anniversary night.


End file.
